IDYLS    OF  GETTYSBURG. 


IDYLS 


GETTYSBURG. 


MISS  E.  LATIMER. 

// 


SAIL  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great! 

***** 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 
Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee— are  all  with  thee. 
LONG  FKL  LOW. 


SECOND    EDITION. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 
PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR, 

AND   FOR   SALE  BY 

GEORGE    MACLEAN, 
733  SANSOM  STREET, 

1872. 


I  '  » 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

Miss  E.  LATIMER, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


STEREOTYPED  BY  HUCKEL  &  Co., 
PHILADELPHIA. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

DEDICATION 7 


PREFACE 11 

BATTLE  OF  GETTYSBURG 1"»- 

IDYL    I. 
THE  UNKNOWN 4t> 

IDYL    II. 
BLIGHTED,  YET  BEAUTIFUL 85 

IDYL    III. 
EARLY  FLOWERS  FROM  GULP'S  HILL 115 

IDYL   IV. 
NATIONAL  ORPHAN  HOMESTEAD  ....  ...  123 


M191976 


IN  THE  INTEREST 
OF  A  BEAUTIFUL  CHARITY,  WITIJ 

DEVOUT  PRAYER 
FOR  OUR  NATION'S  PE^CE, 


OF  OUR  PATRIOT  DEAD 
IDYLS  pE  SACREDLY 

DEDICATED 
BY  TI^E  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


'•THE  IDYLS  OF  GETTYSBURG"  makes  another  offering  to 
that  portion  of  our  literature  which  stands  identified  in  subject 
with  the  late  most  important  struggle  for  the  supremacy  of 
law,  and  maintenance  of  national  unity. 

The  design  in  the  prose  article,  THE  BATTLE  OF  GETTYS 
BURG,  is  not  to  present  the  descriptive,  but  to  speak  of  its  im 
portance  as  to  result.  Aided  by  its  parallelism  with  a  renowned 
battle  of  antiquity,  the  argument  becomes  effective.  The 
battle  of  Gettysburg,  considered  in  its  immediate  results, 
stayed  the  tide  of  invasion,  re-animated  the  patriot  heart  of 
the  country,  and  proved  the  culminating  point  in  the  great 
struggle. 

But  its  cost  in  treasure  and  blood,  the  homes  it  left  deso 
late,  the  hearts  it  broke,  the  orphanage  it  entailed,  must,  for 
thin  generation,  require  that  we  wreathe  the  emblems  of 
mourning  with  the  triumphal  bay.  But  after-time  will  reject 
this  interlacing;  the  traces  of  grief  will  be  lost  in  the  wrapped 
glory  and  greatness  vouchsafed  to  the  battles  of  freedom, 
when  right  and  progress  have  demanded,  as  here,  earnestness 
even  unto  death. 

IDYL  FIRST,  "  The  Unknown,11  is  a  fragment  of  personal 
history,  expressing  the  devotion  of  that  innumerable  host  of 
patriots,  rallying  so  promptly  at  the  country's  call,  emulous 


12  PREFACE. 

of  noble  deed,  and  shrinking  not  from   death  itself,  should 
defence  demand  the  sacrifice. 

IDYL  SECOND  portrays  the  love  that  is  supreme  in  its  truth 
and  touching  tenderness — the  love  that  triumphs  over  the 
selfish,  and  sectional,  defying  each  barrier  thus  raised  by  pride 

or  hate. 

"The  beautiful  love,  like  to  heaven, 
But  to  the  blessed  only  given." 

This  volume,  thus  presented,  is  to  aid  that  most  beautiful 
Charity,  THE  NATIONAL  ORPHAN  HOMESTEAD  at  Gettysburg. 
To  this  end,  the  net  proceeds  through  all  its  editions  are  made 
sacred,  while  this  class  of  orphanage  shall  claim,  as  now, 
protection  and  support. 

The  embellishments,  which  give  the  effort  a  most  pleasing 
feature,  have  been  generously  furnished  by  FRANK  LESLIE, 
ESQ.,  Artist  and  Publisher.  The  MESSRS.  HARPER,  also  equally 
benevolent  in  the  Orphan's  Cause,  made  kind  response  in  its 
behalf.  To  each  and  all  who  have  helped  hitherto,  by  gift 
of  time,  material,  or  money,  grateful  thanks  are  tendered. 

For  the  volume  so  made  up,  and  for  the  object  as  set  forth, 
a  gracious  reception  is  asked  from  a  generous  public  sympa 
thizing  so  deeply  in  the  claim,  and  so  kindly  responsive  to 
meet  the  needed  care  due  our 


NATION'S  ORPHANAGE. 


BATTLE    OF  GETTYSBUEG. 


IDYLS  OF  GETTYSBURG. 


HE  battle  of  Gettysburg,  as  an  event, 
has  become  the  property  of  sober 
history.  The  skill  of  its  command 
ers,  on  either  side,  has  been  fully  discussed, 
and  opinions  rendered.  Surely  its  destruc 
tion  of  life  is  still  felt  in  many  thousand 
homes  through  all  the  land.  Those  of  the 
Union  soldiery,  now  reposing  in  quiet,  beauti 
ful  sepulture  in  its  grounds,  are  counted  by 
thousands;  then  the  hosts  of  the  wounded, 
carried  here  and  there,  to  linger  for  a  time, 
and  then  die.  Add  the  great  number  that 
found  burial  elsewhere,  and  the  estimate 
swells  to  as  many  more  thousands  as  stand 
recorded  within  the  Cemetery  bounds.  Of 

15 


16  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

its  carnage,  it  is  enough  to  say  here,  that  it 
was  frightful,  and  without  parallel  on  cm- 
battle-fields,  at  the  time  of  occurrence. 

"The  Wilderness,"  later,  might  have  been 
nearly  as  decimating,  and  also  the  combined 
assaults  around  Richmond  and  Petersburg. 
But  the  three  days  at  Gettysburg  slew  its 
hecatombs  of  brave  men.  This  battle,  in 
every  aspect,  may  be  regarded  as  the  culmi 
nating  point  in  the  great  struggle  between 
the  mightiest  forces  of  one  people. 

Numbers  on  each  side  much  the  same, — 
that  is,  as  they  stood  on  the  morning  of  the 
second  day's  fight.  The  numbers  on  both 
sides  bore  some  approximation  to  that  great 
est  of  all  armies  ever  called  into  the  field  at 
one  time — that  host  of  men  marshalled  to 
serve  the  pride  and  despotism  of  the  last 
and  most  renowned  of  Persian  conquerors. 
If  we  should  search  in  the  past  to  find  paral 
lelism  for  Gettysburg,  in  morale  of  result,  as 
also  in  corresponding  feature  of  circumstance 
attending,  Marathon  is  that  battle — so  read 
ily  suggested  to  the  student  of  history — that 


BATTLE    OF     GETTYSBURG.  17 

Marathon  of  Xerxes  and  Miltiades  familiar  in 
quotation,  as  allusion  in  ancient  and  modern 
lay.  The  mastery  of  Greece  for  ages,  and  the 
morale  of  her  influence  to  remotest  time,  was 
to  be  decided  by  a  single  battle, — the  de 
cision  to  be  made,  by  the  event  of  defeat 
or  victory,  whether  her  genius  and  art  should 
rivet  the  eye  of  the  world,  or  oriental  bar 
barism  should  interpose  to  extinguish  both. 

This  battle  was  to  decide  whether  repub 
lican  usage  or  tyrannic  waywardness  should 
control  in  Greece  henceforth — whether  the 
sword  was  to  flash,  the  chisel  to  fashion,  the 
temple  to  rise  dedicated  to  freedom,  or 
everything  be  made  to  subserve  the  arrogance 
of  the  capricious  and  dissolute  conqueror. 
It  was  a  morning  of  intense  interest  to  the 
Greek,  as  to  the  whole  world,  that  ushered  in 
the  day  of  Marathon.  Every  circumstance 
favored  the  invader;  numbers — a  thousand 
fold ;  and  town  after  town,  and  state  after 
state,  had  submitted.  Lacedsemon  and  At 
tica  alone  were  unsubdued  The  invincible 

was  written  upon  every  standard. 
2 


18  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

How  with  the  invaded  ? 

A  handful  of  men  to  oppose  the  conqueror, 
and  no  more.  Those  who  might  have 
strengthened  the  ranks  were  hesitating  on  a 
matter  of  superstition.  Then,  for  those  on 
the  field,  there  was  the  trouble  of  divided 
command.  Failing, — and  it  would  seem  they 
must  fail, — then  Lacedsemon,  as  Athens, 
was  open  to  the  invader, — no  further  resis 
tance.  But  the  vexed  question  of  command 
was  settled.  The  few,  in  their  prowess,  be 
came  victorious  over  the  many.  The  faint 
hearted  became  strong.  Greece  was  saved. 
Freedom  was  in  the  ascendant.  Art  was 
inspired.  The  world's  history  was  modified, 
— changed  by  the  triumph  of  the  Greeks  at 
Marathon. 

Mark  the  parallelism,  and  the  field  of 
Gettysburg  may  be  estimated  better  in  its 
connection  with  the  past,  and,  especially,  in 
its  influence  upon  the  future.  The  Marathon 
of  our  time,  the  marked  event  in  the  history 
of  a  great  nation,  the  battle  itself,  the 
mighty  argument  for  law  and  progress,— 


B  A  T  T  L  E    0  F    G  E  T  T  Y  S  B  U  R  G  .  21 

was  here  to  be  enforced  by  the  decision  of 
the  merciless  sword. 

Preceding — Lee  has  crossed  the  Potomac. 
Prestige  is  upon  his  banners,  and  is  the  guide 
of  his  march.  It  was  not  a  hurried  march, 
and  to  the  point  of  contest  it  was  trium 
phant.  This  invading  army  was  large,  well 
appointed,  and  proudly  defiant.  Lee'  makes 
his  halt  in  the  rural  regions,  whose  valleys 
are  shallow,  and  whose  rounded  high  lands 
are  but  the  outposts  of  the  great  Alleghanies. 

The  head-quarters  selected  was  but  a 
sample  of  the  cottages  scattered  throughout 
that  rural  region,  where  pretension  is  so  little 
known. 

Near  is  the  small  to\vn  of  Gettysburg,, 
occupying  one  of  those  shallow  valleys  be 
tween  corresponding  lines  of  high  grounds. 
The  principal  street  seems  to  correspond  in 
direction  with  the  high  land,  to  the  north 
and  south.  This  town  had  then,  as  now, 
its  schools,  its  college,  and  its  theological 
seminary.  Lee  found  it  with  much  the  same 
or  a  less  population  than  at  present.  This 


22  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

population  is  disposed  to  the  peaceful  and 
plodding.  The  tocsin  had  reverberated 
through  this  valley  before  his  coming.  But 
the  sound  died  away  to  the  south,  and  the 
vvaveless  current  of  Gettysburg  life  rolled  on, 
even  as  it  rolled  before !  Now  and  then  a 
sturdy  man  went  to  the  war.  But  boys, 
professors,  and  ministers  make  not  the  ma 
terial  for  armed  resistance  or  aggressive  war-, 
fare.  So  Lee  sat  down  master  of  the  position: 
rested,  refreshed  his  army — burning  no  ham 
lets,  committing  no  depredation.  On  the 
Union  side,  at  the  time  of  his  coming,  there 
was,  indeed,  but  a  handful  of  armed  men  in 
the  neighborhood.  But  as  the  day  of  trial 
drew  on,  there  was  some  reinforcement,  and 
the  small  force  was  led  by  the  heroic  Rey 
nolds.  But,  however  brave  and  well  disci 
plined,  what  could  a  mere  handful  do  in 
opposing  a  large  and  well-appointed  army  ? 
such  an  army  as  had  taken  post  along  the 
high  grounds  to  the  north  of  Gettysburg  ? 

But  where  is  the  Army  of  the  Potomac? 
As  far  in  the  rear  of  Gettysburg,  on  the  last 


BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG.  23 

days  of  June,  as  the  needed  Spartans  at 
Marathon.  This  Arm}7  of  the  Potomac,  if  not 
troubled  by  the  contradictory  orders  of  ten 
generals,  who  must  each  rule  his  day, — as 
the  Athenian  at  Marathon, — had  great  diffi 
culty  in  rinding  one  satisfactory  alike  to  the 
army  and  country.  A  battle  must  be  fought, 
and  substantial  victory  declared.  If  this  is 
not  accomplished,  then  the  Middle  and  North 
ern  States,  their  commercial  and  manufact 
uring  centres,  with  the  seat  of  government 
itself,  would  become  the  property  of  the  in 
vaders — be  yielded  to  the  control,  for  the 
time,  at  least,  of  an  exultant  soldiery,  per 
taining  to  the  army  of  invasion. 

It  was  a  fortunate  occurrence,  at  this  junc 
ture,  that  General  Meade  was  ordered  to 
command  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  He 
proved  the  Miltiades  of  the  modern  Marathon. 
His  elevation  w^as  followed  by  that  despatch 
the  crisis  demanded.  The  march  to  Gettys 
burg  hastened.  The  cavalry  arm  of  the 
Union  service  was  interposed  between  Lee 
and  his  base  of  supplies.  This  gave  the 


24  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Southern  General  the  first  uneasiness,  and 
precipitated  the  battle  at  Gettysburg.  Still 
it  was,  no  doubt,  with  a  feeling  of  much  con 
tempt  for  the  resistance  that  could  be  offered 
by  the  small  force  under  Reynolds,  that  the 
contest  was  opened.  It  was  to  the  north  of 
the  town  that  the  terrible  conflict  began, 
on  the  first  of  July,  1863.  As  the  hot 
burning  sun  of  that  day  mounted  to  his 
meridian,  Reynolds,  with  his  handful  of  men, 
as  opposed  to  nearly  100,000,  might  well 
have  wished  for  night  to  come  sooner,  or  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  to  appear  in  force. 

Ah!  night  came  only  too  soon,  with  its 
shroud  of  darkness,  for  the  heroic  General  of 
the  first  day's  fight  on  this  renowned  field. 
Conspicuous, — the  soul  of  every  plan  and 
strategic  movement, — our  hero  fell,  in  front  of 
a  beautiful  open  grove  of  oaks,  pierced  by  the 
cowardly  ball  of  a  sharp-shooter.  His  death 
was  a  great  loss  to  the  country,  and  a  most 
severe  blow  to  the  work  of  the  day.  A  retreat 
was  hastily  conducted,  that  brought  the  Union 
forces  through  the  affrighted  town,  followed 


BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG.  27 

closely  by  their  pursuers.  The  post  was 
taken,  however,  as  designated  by  Eeynolds 
before  his  fall.  His  order,  if  driven,— and  he 
knew  they  must  be,  if  unsupported,— was  for 
the  forces  to  fall  back,  and  take  a  defensive 
stand  on  Cemetery  Hill.  This  is  the  hand 
somely-swelling  highland  at  the  south  of  the 
town.  To  the  Union  forces  that  had  taken 
stand  upon  this  Hill  night  came-  it  found 
them  baffled,  dispirited,  and  unsupported. 
The  first  day  had  been  long,  trying  and  per 
ilous.  Their  lamented  leader  had  fallen;  the 
night  itself  was  sultry;  the  moonlight  seemed 
heated,  and  the  air  sulphurous  and  oppres 
sive.  The  town  was  in  the  possession  of  the 
invader.  His  line  of  pickets  ran  along  the 
lower  terrace  of  the  highland,  where  the 
Union  force  had  halted  for  determined  stand. 
The  troops  occupied  the  elevation,with  Gulp's 
Hill  to  the  right,  and  Bound  Top  to  the  left. 
These  heights  gave  admirable  position  for  the 
defensive.  Support  was  needed,  and  it  came: 
under  the  cover  of  night,  it  came.  Its 
silence  foreshadowed  success.  The  Baltimore 


28  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Pike,  leading  south,  was  open  to  the  unob 
structed  approach  of  the  coming  forces. 

Meade,  the  new  commander,  was  in  ad 
vance  of  the  hurrying  army  corps.  He 
endorsed,  with  encomium,  the  central  position 
seized,  requiring  that  it  should  he  held  at  any 
cost.  The  disposition  of  forces,  as  fast  as  they 
arrived,  was  made  accordingly.  It  was  bold 
to  seize  this  centre,  with  its  outlying  hills 
right  and  left.  It  was  braver  to  hold  these 
in  the  face  of  such  a  line  of  artillery  as 
fronted  on  the  corresponding  heights  of  Sem 
inary  Ridge — artillery  of  heaviest  calibre, 
posted  at  leisure,  and  trained  to  such  accu 
racy,  that  every  shot  must  tell.  The  arrival 
of  General  Meade,  on  the  night  of  the  first, 
was  followed  fast  by  the  hurrying  divisions 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

By  the  morning  of  the  second,  the  newly 
arrived  forces  stand,  disposed  with  masterly 
skill,  along  that  three  miles  of  high  land, 
having  Cemetery  Hill  for  centre,  Gulp's  Hill 
to  the  right,  and  Round  Top  to  the  left.  No 
cannonading  on  the  morning  of  the  second, 


BATTLE    OF     GETTYSBURG.  29 

that  was  in  any  way  formidable.  The  pause 
gave  the  brief  respite  so  needed  by  the  over- 
marched  Union  forces,  ultimately  proving 
their  salvation. 

The  delay  was  a  great  mistake  in  the 
commander  of  the  opposing  forces.  Lee 
hitherto  had  been  so  quick  to  seize  and  im 
prove  advantage,  that  this  yielded  pause, 
this  fatal  delay,  is  not  easily  accounted  for. 
To  his  assisted  eye  there  appeared  a  persis- 
tant  stand  on  Cemetery  Hill.  This,  he  might 
have  thought,  could  be  dislodged  or  quickly 
flanked.  This  stand  routed, — the  success  of 
yesterday  followed  up, — and  the  probably 
advancing  columns  of  the  Union  Army  could 
be  met  and  overcome  in  detail.  Then  Phila 
delphia,  Baltimore  and  Washington  would  be 
open  to  his  troops,  as  certainly  as  there  are 
roads  leading  thither.  But  this  bliss  of 
thought,  such  expectation,  could  not  have 
prevailed  had  Lee  comprehended  that  a 
powerful  army  was  now  stretching  along  the 
highlands  here,  fronting  those  where  he  had 
so  skilfully  taken  post — the  army  that  for- 


30  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

bids  further  invasion.  Lee  is  surveying  the 
modern  Marathon,  but  does  not  know  it.  His 
lookout  this  morning  is  the  finest  his  side  of 
the  town  can  offer.  Gulp's  Hill,  wooded  and 
swelling,  is  brought  in  range  of  his  glass. 
The  gentler  slope  of  Cemetery  Hill  is  scanned. 
Moving  his  glass  slowly,  it  brings  in  soon  the 
frowning  Bound  Tops- — the  less  and  gentler 
elevation  of  that  name  lying  nearest  Ceme 
tery  Hill.  The  heights  are  all  fine,  and  ad 
mirably  adapted  for  a  famous  battle-ground. 
But  where  are  the  men?  Such  the  pertinent 
question.  It  was  soon  answered, — They  are 
there.  A  strong  wall  of  defence  has  been 
shaped,  built  up  there  during  the  past 
night.  Not  conspicuous  this  wall  from  the 
opposite  hill — for  ravine,  copse,  rolling  inter 
mediate  ground  and  forest  intercept.  The 
survey,  most  carefully  made,  is  indeterminate 
of  real  fact.  But  this  wall  is  there,  movable 
at  once  and  massive. 

But  the  morning  of  the  second  day  of  bat 
tle  has  passed.  It  has  been  comparatively 
quiet  along  the  lines.  The  Union  soldier 


BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG.  31 

has  taken  breath  since  his  arrival.  But 
when  is  the  cannonading  to  begin,  and  the 
fiercer  charge  to  succeed?  It  is  past  the 
meridian.  There  is  a  signal — and  that  line 
of  cannon,  posted  for  miles  along  the  ridge, 
opens  upon  Cemetery  Hill.  In  the  pause  of 
the  morning,  there  had  been  time  to  lay  down 
obelisk,  cross,  and  tablet  on  the  summit  of 
the  hill,  which  ground  had  been  consecrated 
to  the  dead.  It  was  well  that  the  pious 
command  to  do  this  had  been  issued  in  time, 
for  the  shower  of  exploding  shells,  solid  shot, 
and  hurled  missiles  of  every  description,  was 
fearful  beyond  conception.  These  missiles 
fell  but  to  pierce,  plough,  and  crush.  Nothing, 
it  would  seem,  could  stand  before  such  an  at 
tack.  Yet  the  centre  wavered  not,  however 
fierce  the  onset;  and  the  assailants  found  the 
response  as  heavy  in  return.  All  along  from 
Gulp's  Hill  away  to  the  left  blazed  the  cor 
don  of  heaviest  artillery.  It  was  perceived 
now  by  Lee,  that  there  was  a  General  and  an 
army  on  the  heights  occupied  by  the  Union 
forces,  as  well  as  along  the  brow  and  slopes 


32  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

of  Seminary  Kidge.  So  the  contest  raged, 
with  far  greater  fury  than  on  the  former  da}-, 
along  the  lengthened  lines.  To  outflank  or 
break  the  centre  of  the  Union  force  was  Lee's 
full  determination.  The  preceding  evening, 
either  could  have  been  done ;  on  the  morning 
of  this  day,  it  might  have  been  accomplished, 
but  not  without  the  greatest  loss.  At  noon, 
the  Union  Army,  in  its  strength,  was  posted 
along  its  whole  line  of  battle.  At  the  open 
ing  of  the  assailing  cannonade  it  was  impreg 
nable.  So  it  proved,  being  tried, — tested  in 
every  way  with  a  fury  and  determination 
that  perhaps  was  never  equalled. 

The  charge  to  left — with  repulse ;  renewed, 
with  attempt  to  dislodge  from  Round  Top- 
failed.  Then  followed  the  attempt  upon  the 
right,  and  fiercer  press  upon  the  centre. 
But  in  vain.  No  wedge  could  be  made  to 
enter,  and  no  diversion  bend. 

The  fighting  upon  and  near  the  Round 
Tops  this  day  exceeded,  in  persistence  and 
fury,  that  of  any  other  portion  of  the  wide 
spread,  bloody  field. 


BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG.  35 

Little  Round  Top  was  the  scene  of  desper 
ate  struggle,  as  also  the  higher  eminence. 
The  Pennsylvania  Reserves  here  covered 
themselves  with  glory. 

Whoever  has  seen  this  portion  of  the 
famous  field,  can  never  forget  its  strange  and 
most  striking  aspect,  especially  when  con 
templated  as  a  battle-ground. 

The  higher  eminence,  Big  Round  Top,  is 
scattered  so  thickly  with  granitic  bowlders 
from  base  to  summit,  as  to  suggest  that  the 
wars  of  the  Titans  might  have  opened  here. 
In  this  battle  of  the  second  day,  the  fighting 
amidst  the  bold  masses  of  rock — the  hand- 
to-hand  encounters  must  have  required  a 
potency  of  nerve,  a  vigor  of  determination 
that  the  bravest  could  scarcely  be  able  to 
support.  Late  in  the  afternoon  of  this  day, 
the  fearful  charges,  surging  around  its  base, 
extended  far  up  among  the  rocks.  The  re 
sponding  artillery  of  the  two  armies,  rever 
berating  in  awful  intonation  amid  the 
separate  and  superimposed  masses  of  bowl 
der,  added  to  that  awfulness.  So,  too,  that 


3<|  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

carnage  of  the  near  clover  field, — the  literal 
mowing  down  of  men  in  the  peach  orchard, 
lying  a  little  to  the  north  of  west  from  Round 
Top.  These  near  and  associated  combina 
tions  of  horror  and  carnage  have,  perhaps, 
never  been  so  persistently  presented  by  a 
battle-field  of  any  country,  or  time. 

But  with  all  this  cost  and  action,  in  this 
portion  of  the  field,  as  elsewhere,  the  assail- 
lants  were  compelled  to  fall  back,  with 
frightful  decimation,  to  their  morning  posi 
tions  for  a  little  rest.  The  battle  had  raged 
with  little  abatement  of  fury  until  a  late 
hour;  so  the  time  for  rest  was  very  brief.  At 
length,  there  was  something  like  the  silence 
of  night  through  the  town  and  over  the 
field.  The  morrow  will  come — it  must  be 
decisive.  The  great  questions  of  constitu 
tional  law  and  unity  left  to  the  arbitrament 
of  the  sword  must  receive  decision  to-morrow. 
Shall  a  fundamental  principle  of  our  Decla 
ration  find  its  demonstration  at  length? 
Shall  the  majesty  of  law7  be  held  sacred,  or 
faction  rule?  Shall  we  indeed  become  a 


BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG.  37 

dissevered  nation,  or  shall  we  see  the  bleed 
ing,  gaping  wounds  close?  All  these  im 
portant  considerations,  and  more,  seem  bound 
up  in  the  issues  of  to-morrow.  A  moment 
ous  day  and  a  momentous  battle! 

Time  hastened  on;  and  the  third  day's 
contest  was  decided  in  favor  of  freedom,  law 
and  progress. 

The  opening  cannonade  of  this  last  day  of 
the  struggle  is  said  to  have  been  more  tre 
mendous  by  far  than  the  preceding.  Two 
hundred  and  fifty  cannon  at  one  time  were 
hurling  their  volleyed  thunders  around  the 
Union  centre,  on  Cemetery  Hill. 

From  under  these  sulphurous  clouds — and 
plunging  from  thence  into  the  suffocating 
blackness  now  rising  above — and  now  rolling 
down  through  the  valleys  from  Cemetery 
Hill,  there  is  presented  a  new  phase  of 
daring.  "The  Louisiania  Tigers'7  charge 
upon  the  right  centre  of  the  Union  army. 
Like  the  animal  whose  name  they  aptly  bore, 
they  came  on  their  covert  track  without 
warning,  and  charged  upon  their  prey  as  if 


38  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

a  thousand  jungles  had  been  unloosed. 
Fierce,  sudden  and  overwhelming  as  this 
attack  was  designed  to  prove,  it  was  beaten 
back,  and  the  ravine  through  which  they 
were  hurried  was  strewn  with  bleeding 
corpses.  Associated  with  this,  is  made  the 
last  charge  upon  the  left  centre  of  the  Union 
forces.  This  charge  is  eighteen  thousand 
strong.  The  flower  of  southern  chivalry, 
without  figure  of  speech, — young  men,  and 
brave.  These  were  disciplined  to  such  pre 
cision  of  movement  as  nothing,  it  would 
seem,  could  jostle  or  disarrange.  The  charge 
combined  the  weight  of  the  phalanx  with 
the  swiftness  of  the  legion.  As  the  shadow 
of  a  hastening  cloud,  they  move  over  the 
intervening  fields,  uncovered  to  the  sweeping 
artillery  of  the  Union  centre,  wrhich  literally 
mows  their  ranks  as  they  rapidly  approach; 
but  the  widest  gaps  in  the  advancing 
columns  are  so  quickly  closed,  as  to  make 
the  beholder  doubt  it  has  been  made.  Thus 
on  and  on  hurry  these  charging  columns, 
without  pause,  and  without  falter,  until 


BATTLE    OF     GETTYSBURG.  41 

bayonet  and  ball  threaten  positive  annihila 
tion.  Thus  approaching,  and  thus  received 
—faltering  not,  even  now,  but  falling  in 
cumbrous  heaps, — sinking  as  by  legions.  It 
is  enough.  Never  was  there  a  bloodier  field 
and  never  a  more  determined  charge  than 
those  closing  the  contest  at  Gettysburg.  It  is 
enough — the  question  is  decided.  Our  country 
has  vouchsafed  a  future  of  more  glory,  too, 
than  that  covering  her  past  renown. 

The  tide  of  invasion  is  dashed  back ;  and 
the  recoil  is  such  as  to  plainly  indicate  the 
ultimate  Union  triumph. 

The  Persian  monarch  retired  from  Mara 
thon  with  a  routed  army.  The  prestige  of 
success  had  departed ;  one  defeat  cancelling 
so  many  victories ! 

Lee  drew  off  his  shattered  forces  from 
Gettysburg,  and  recrossed  the  Potomac.  So 
this  most  formidable  armed  resistance  to 
Constitutional  law  and  right  was  closed  on 
the  soil  the  slave  had  hitherto  sown  and 
reaped.  But  the  victory  here  achieved  was 
a  triumph  of  freedom.  The  last  rivet  had 


42  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

fallen  from  the  shackles  of  the  slave,  and  his 
enfranchisement  was  a  foregone  decision 
when  the  last  charge  of  Lee  failed  on  the 
field  of  Gettysburg. 

At  Marathon,  the  triumph  of  the  Greek 
was  followed  by  the  most  interesting  conse 
quences.  The  Parthenon  soon  crowned  the 
Acropolis  at  Athens.  The  achievements  of 
the  chisel  of  Phidias,  in  its  ornamenta 
tion,  inspired  the  idea  that  the  gods  dwelt 
with  men,  or  that  the  human  mind  had 
received  new  powers,  and  the  hand  new 
skill.  Art  was  indeed  glorified,  and  the 
beautiful  reigned.  The  dramatist  caught  the 
inspiration,  and  learned  to  personate  the 
thought  that  breathes,  in  the  word  that  burns. 
The  historian,  too,  felt  the  happy  influence, 
and  wrote  with  a  pen  as  clear  as  if  dipped 
in  light.  So  the  thunder  of  that  eloquence 
that  warmed  and  glowed,  while  it  enforced 
such  lessons  as  the  victories  of  freedom  in 
spired,  continues  in  its  vibrations  still  to 
awaken. 

The  victory  at  Marathon  so  electrified  the 


BATTLE  OF   GETTYSBURG;  43 

Grecian  mind,  elevated  the  Grecian  charac 
ter,  so  inspired  the  Grecian  genius,  that  fame 
has  conferred  upon  it  a  lasting  immortality. 

The  Union  victory  at  Gettysburg  is  too 
recent  to  be  understood  or  fully  appreciated 
in   all    its   individual    and   wider    national 
bearing.     But  it  has  already  given  a  historic 
importance  to  the  locality  of  the  battle  that 
must  continue,  while  admiration  for  bravery 
and  sacrifice  for  country  shall  animate  the 
human   heart.      Gettysburg   has   taken   its 
rank  among  the  battle-fields  of  freedom,  for 
it  became  the  boundary  beyond  which  invasion 
could  not  pass.     When  the  vast  tidal  wave 
of    rebellion   rolled   up   from   the    southern 
gulf,  threatening,  for  a  time,  no  pause  until 
it  should  mingle  with  the  lakes  of  the  north, 
here   it   was  met   and    turned  backward — to 
menace  no  more !  and,  losing  its  unity,  was 
lost,  sinking  downward  through  unseen  chan 
nels,  making  its  slow  way  back,  to  mingle 
again,  without  disturbance,  in  the  vast  ocean 
of  truer  thought  and  purer  motive  investing 
our  grand  nationality. 


44  BATTLE     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Art,  the  exponent  of  tendencies  and  the 
measure  of  progress,  has  already  testified  the 
deepest  sympathy  with  the  patriotism  and 
admiration  for  the  bravery  of  our  citizen 
soldiery.  Under  such  guidance,  a  portion  of 
the  stern  battle-field  here  has  been  smoothed 
with  great  care,  and  the  fallen  of  the  Union 
host  allowed  to  find  quiet  sepulture.  These 
are  gathered  here  in  much  closer  companion 
ship  thap  when  found  after  the  three  days  of 
battle.  A  massive  inclosure  defends  the 
broad  acres  thus  set  apart  in  consecration. 
The  granite  headstone  is  directed  to  be  hewn 
and  inscribed.  Trees  of  varied  flower,  form, 
and  foliage  are  planted  through  the  grounds. 
Avenues,  cut  and  gravelled,  wind  through 
the  fields  of  richest  green.  On  the  highest 
portion  of  this  consecrated  slope  is  raised 
the  marble  monumental  column — so  truly 
artistic  in  conception  and  finish — symboliz 
ing  what  has  been — and  the  glory  that  will 
be. 

Truly,  the  painter,  the  sculptor,   and  the 
poet,    the   orator,    and    the   historian,  have 


BATTLE    OF     GETTYSBURG.  45 

expressed  the  fulness  of  the  inspiration,  born 
of  the  great  issues  that  were  folded  up  in  the 
three  days7  struggle  for  a  nation's  better  life 
on  the  battle-field  of  Gettysburg.  May  all 
the  lessons  deducible  therefrom  tend  but  to 
peace  and  progress — to  our  country's  unity 
and  greatness  to  the  latest  time. 

To  make  sure  the  attainment  of  that  end 
— to  bequeath  in  faith  the  promise  of  such 
glorious  anticipation — we  must  be  true  to 
the  memory  of  the  sacrificed.  We  must  often 
allow  the  heart  to  be  made  tender  by  the  tale 
of  his  love— by  the  moral  of  that  life  yielded 
in  such  beautiful  devotion  to  country  and  to 
the  cause  of  right. 


IDYL  I. 


THE  UNKNOWN. 


IDYL  I. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


OUR  land  again  is  blest! 

Smiles  the  sweet  peace  anew; 
That  beautiful  behest 

To  live  as  brothers  true 
Hence  followed  —  still  may  rise 
Blessing  from  sacrifice. 

Days  hostile,  dread  and  dark! 

The  cost  we  must  deplore  ; 
They  leave  a  scathing  mark 

Where  all  looked  fair  before  — 
Leave  a  deep,  burning  trace 
Centuries  but  efface. 

4  49 


50  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Just, — and  forget  the  men 
Swelling  the  mighty  host 

Who  stood  up  boldly  then, 
Else  law  and  right  were  lost! 

Yielding  the  life  we  prize, 

Forget  such  sacrifice  1 

No!  never  will  forget; 

Nay,  never  cease  to  prize; 
Their  glory's  sun  not  set, 

Their  noble  sacrifice 
Shall  live  to  latest  days, 
Chanted  in  richest  lays. 

Yes, — snatched  from  faction's  hate, 
"We  yield  them  unto  fame 

Who  moored  anew  our  State, 
Drifting  on  frightful  main; 

Who,  braving  seas  of  strife, 

Died  for  a  nation's  life. 


THE     UNKNOWN,  53 

We  yield  with  pride  to  fame 

The  mighty  martyr  host, 
Enrolling  humblest  name, 

Not  one  of  all  be  lost. 
Tell  their  touching  story, 
Wreathe  each  name  with  glory ! 

Nor  ever  die  the  tale, 

For  love  we  bear  his  child: 

Pity  for  her,  so  pale ; 

Hiding  despair,  she  smiled, 

When,  girding  armor  on, 

The  soldier  left  his  home. 

He  bade  the  last  adieu, 

And  turned  so  quick  away; 

He,  the  patriot  true, 
His  country  to  obey  ; 

Surrendered  home  and  life. 

0!  shield  his  child,  his  wife! 


54  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

THE  ENLISTMENT. 

OUR  patriot  soldier  of  the  crisis  represents 
the  spirit  of  that  innumerable  band  rallying 
for  the  defence  of  the  nation's  flag.  The 
enlistment  took  place  at  his  workshop,  and, 
having  put  the  few  things  in  order  there, 
hurries  home  to  make  the  announcement 
that  he  is  enrolled  as  one  of  the  citizen 
soldiery. 

He  felt  how  trying  would  be  such  an 
nouncement,  and  now  lingered  to  gain 
strength,  as  well  as  to  set  his  little  shop  in 
order.  It  was  the  twilight  hour  when  he 
sought  his  home,  a  mile  or  two  distant. 
With  the  fervor  of  accustomed  earnestness, 
deepened  by  the  events  of  the  day,  on  his 
arrival  there,  the  address  opens : 

Wife  of  my  bosom,  listen. 

Am  late  from  daily  toil; 
Why  doth  the  *  tear-drop  glisten, 

Ah!  have  you  learned  it  all? 


THE     UNKNOWN.  55 

The  flag  again  is  lower' d, 

Defeat  but  follows  still; 
Complaint  is  only  poured, 

And  thousands  called  to  fill 
Broken  ranks,  and  waning. 

We  are  summon'd  to  the  fight; 
New  recruits  are  arming, 

Some  leave,  dear  wife,  to  night! 

WIFE'S   REPLY. 

Was  it  the  signal  bell? 

Ah!  never  so  before 
Was  ev'ry  stroke  a  knell, 

I  feared  the  call  once  morel 
Counted  the  hours  till  night; 

But,  dear,  you  will  not  got 
You  cannot  feel  it  right! 

Mine!  do  not  leave  us  so 
Sadly,  and  all  alone; 

— ne'er  to  return! 


56  IDYLS   OF   GETTYSBURG. 

HUSBAND. 

Forbode  not  thus  so  ill; 

My  trust  is  in  the  right. 
A  strange  continuous  thrill 

Pervades  my  heart  to-night. 

t 

I  love  my  wife,  my  home, 
Love  so  our  children  dear! 

But,  truly,  time  has  come 
"When  wrong  to  linger  here. 

The  call  that  came  to  day. 

More  stirring  than  before, 
We  dare  not  disobey. 

Three  hundred  thousand  more 

Of  strong  men  for  the  field; 

Of  strong  men  for  the  fight; 
These,  flashing  swords  must  wield; 

Must  leave  our  homes  to  night! 


THE  UNKNOWN.  57 

WIFE. 

Mine!  do  not  go;  0,  stay! 

Let  others  meet  the  foe; 
Stay  by  thy  home,  I  pray— 

Implore  thee,  do  not  go! 

Who  goes  returneth  not; 

The  cruel  war  but  slays! 
See  our  unfinished  cot, 

Where  each  chill  wind  that  strays, 

And  where  the  showers  of  rain 
Such  easy  entrance  gain. 
Trusting,  more  comfort  here, 
Leave  us  not  thus,  my  dear! 

You  see  the  constant  care 
To  shield  from  damp,  chill  air. 
They  are  asleep,  our  three, 
So  sweetly — Come  and  see. 


58  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Our  eldest — mark  his  face; 
Alice — in  girlish  grace. 
Say,  here,  thou  wilt  not  go, 
My  heart  sinks,  grieving  so! 

HUSBAND. 

Oh!  such  pleading  wounds  my  heart; 
I  would  not,  so  soon,  depart— 
Leave  in  unprepared  hour 
To  poverty's  seeming  power, 

Mine,  so  very,  very  dear. 
But  the  peril  bids  us  go; 
Spare  the  grief,  that  presseth  so. 
Would  I  had  more  careful  been, 
Provident,  as  other  men ; 
Ah !  this  want  of  care,  my  wife, 
Seemeth  wrong;  but  after-life 
Shall  atone — all,  all  so  free, 
From  the  lessons  learned  at  sea! 
I  have  labor'd;  honest  brow 
From  the    workshop    cometh  now, 


THE     UNKNOWN.  59 

I  labor,  but  have  no  care; 

Money  goes  for  any  prayer; 

Open  hand— and  heart,  you  know, 

Melted  by  the  tale  of  woe. 

Impulsive — wife,  dry  that  tear! 

Forgive — henceforth  never  fear. 

My  every  fault  I  see, 

Could  now  weep  for  poverty; 

Feel  deeply  this  want  of  thought, 

See  the  evil  it  has  wrought. 

Trust  me!  I  will  be  more  just 

Be  happier — fully  trust. 

The  cot  improved,  feel  the  cheer; 

Read  the  promise  written  here. — 

The  villagers  will  repair, 

Adding  other  needed  care, 

For  our  children,  for  thee,  wife! 

They  promise  care,  through  the  strife. 

Sheltered  soon,  from  wind  and  rain, 

So,  ere  winter  comes  again, 


60  IDYLS     OF    GETTYSBURG. 

More  of  comfort  will  be  here; 

Better  walls  and  roof,  my  dear! 

>TJiere  is  hope,  for  darkest  hour, — 

And  with  reproach,  still  the  power 

To  follow  whither  duty  leads; 

Stand  for  country — in  her  needs. 

So,  loving  thee    all  the  more 
For  each  privation  shared  before, 
Loving  with  the  fondest  heart— 
The  country's  peril  bids  us  part. 
Say  to  me,  Go!  speed  me  on! 
Enrolled,  before  rising  sun 
Looks  again  on  battles  lost, — 
On  campaign,  such  life  has  cost! 
Great  the  peril,  cease  delay, 
Speed  me  ere  another  day! 
Bid  us  all  be  very  brave, 
Keep  our  vow,  the  flag  to  save! 
In  cause  sacred,  and  so  just, 
God  will  shield — the  holy  trust, 


T  H  E     U  N  K  N  0  W  N.  61 

Succor  those   we  leave  behind, 
Folding  in  His  mercy  kind. 
Dear  wife!  this  trust,  so  be  thine! 
Teach  our  children, — it  is  mine.— 
The  good  pastor  came  to  share 
In  decision, — would  prepare 
To  meet  trial,  that  has  come, 
Do  the  work    that  must  be  done. 
Feels  the  conflict's  very  sore, 
Asking  for  st>  many  more ! 
Earnest  hope,  expressed,  as  fears, 
Spoke  tenderly,  half  in  tears; 
Knew  each  trial, — all  too  well, 
Sought  the  sadness  to  dispel; 
Pointed  to  the  flag  unfurled 
As  freedom's, — and  the  world. 
Its  support  claimed  of  the  free; 
Its  cause  the  right,  humanity. 
Bade  us  keep  the  flag  in  sight, 
Standing  firmly  in  the  right. 


02  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Martyrs  falling  on  the  field, 
Country's  grateful  love,  the  shield. 
Stretching  over  those  we  left, 
Would  kind  console,  if  bereft. 
Tremble  not,  wife,  at  the  thought 
Of  devotion  only  wrought. 
Tremble  not,  but  bless,  I  pray,— 
Time  presses,  I  must  away. 
Swift  in  duty  bid  me  be; 
Wake  not,  wife,  our  cherished  three; 
It  will  so  oppress  my  heart- 
Let  me  kiss  them,  so  depart! 
Their  picture,  by  early  mail, 
Send  to  the  camp,  do  not  fail! 
Will  keep  it  so  near  my  heart; 
For  all  they  are,  all  thou  art, 
Makes  me  strong  in  cause  so  just — 
Home  and  country  are  my  trust! 
Dear,  be  firm,  be  fondly  true, 
Heaven  keep  you  all,    loved,  adieu! 


THE    UNKNOWN.  C3 

Silence  and  grief  watch  that  night, 
Both  were  there;   but  morning  light 
Calls  the  prattlers  from  their  rest 
With  faces  bright — cheered  her  breast; 
Constant  burden — and  so  care 
Lived  within  the  cottage  there. — 
The  day  all  toil, — night  brought  rest; 
Sometimes  came  a  message  blest 
From  the  field,  as  when  the  fray 
Had  passed,  granted,  he  would  say 

"ALL  is  WELL." 

Then  the  little  cot  was  bright 
Through  the  day,  and  through  the  night, 

Until  fear  would  so  dispel 

• 

Joy  that  came  with  "all  is  well." 
So  the  days  but  weave  the  years, 
Faileth  hope — so  true  our  fears! 
But  the  picture  of  the  three, 
Thought  the  soldier  could  not  be 
Greater  charm    than  met  him  here, 
Gazing  on  their  faces  dear. 


64  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Asks  his  heart,  "Who  not  bless  God, 

Even  from  the  pillow  sod;" 

For  thought  of  these,  through  the  night 

And  the  glance,  by  morning  light. 
#  #  #  #  # 

Life  was  changeful  in  the  cot. 

Trust,  so  calm,  did  God  allot 

Him,  who  dared,  endured,  prayed 

That  contest  cruel  be  allayed; 

Who  saw  in  banner,  waving  free, 

Thus  triumphant — Liberty! 

Lonely  watch  is  charmed  by  love; 

When  the  bright  clear  stars  above 

Looked  so  loving  from  the  sky, 

Then  each  thought  would  homeward  fly. 

NIGHT  WATCH  NEAR  FREDERICKSBURG. 

"I  walk  the  frequent  round, 
But  hear  no  warlike  sound. 
Our  little  ones  in  bed, 
Each  before,  prayer  has  said, — 


THE     UNKNOWN  65 

Came  thus   my  name  to-night? 
Ah!  yes — well,  that  is  right. 
Dear  Frank  and  Ally  pray, 
And  little  Fred,  you  say; 
Fond  thought,  so  loves  to  dwell; 
The  message, — 'all  is  well  I" 

But  rages  still  a  nation's  strife, 

The  soldier  trusts;  but  weeps  the  wife. 

GETTYSBURG. 

Boundary  passed  by  hostile  host, 
Both  pride  and  prestige  swell  its  boast, 
Soon,  through  those  green  and  quiet  glades, 
Soon,  through  the  leafy,  forest  shades, 
Screeches  the  fearful,  bursting  shell, 
Mingled  with  battle's  frightful  yell; 
'Till  rounded  hill,  in  leafy  dell, 
Through  gorge,  ravine,  as  on  the  plain, 
All  thickly  scattered,  lie  the  slain! 

0 


66  IDYLS     OF    GETTYSBURG. 

On  this  famed  field,  where  legions  reeled. 
Whose  thousands,  sinking,  thereby  sealed 
In  death    a  nation's  new-born  life, 
Where  peace  was  made  thro'  fiercest  strife : 
Here,  where  the  firm  and  fearless  North 
Met  the  flaming,  fiery  South; 
Both    pouring  forth  their  noblest  blood, 
That  flowed  and  surged  in  common  flood; 
Here,  where  the  sacred  flag  and  free 
Triumphed,  at  length,  gloriously, 
Under  whose  starry,  drooping  fold, 
Slept  the  soldier,  in  death  so  cold! 
He  stood  unhurt — the  first  rude  clash, 
Unhurt,  'mid  sword  and  musket  flash; 
Hushed  boldly,  when  the  charge  was  made. 
Defied  the  point  of  traitorous  blade; 
He  pauses  not,  nor  feared  to  die, 
Beautiful  in  all  fidelity! 
Long,  long  the  conflict  had  begun; 
Many  a  charge  was  lost  or  won, 


THE     U  N  K  N  0  W  X.  C7 

Where,  continuous  shot  or  shell 
Wounded,  wasted — thickest  fell; 
And  aided,  too,  with  flashing  steel, 
Assailed,  assailant,  bend  or  reel — 
Where    all  wras  horror,  carnage  sore, 
Here  bowed  the  brave,  to  rise  no  more. 
So  slow  he  drags  from  out  the  fray, 
Clasps  the  picture  and  tries  to  pray, 
"God!  shield  the  country  of  my  birth. 
Defend  the  flag  of  all  the  earth! 
It  waveth  still,  I  dimly  see; 
This  must  be  death  and — victory! 
0  God!  my  children — hear  this  prayer: 
Keep,  keep  them,  in  Thy  mercy's  care ; 
Be  Thou  their  Father,  Blessed  One! 
And  help  me  say,  *  Thy  will  be  done.' ' 
***** 

Glorious  vision  calms  the  soul; 
The  shreds  of  life  become  a  whole; 


68  IDYLS     OF    GETTYSBURG. 

The  home  of  childhood  seemeth  near, 

Beautiful,  as  in  memory  dear. 

So,  quiet  seas,  with  islands  green, 

Light  the  beatific  scene; 

Fruits  and  flowers  to  inner  eyes, 

Waving,  as  those  of  paradise. 

The  humble  cot,  the  home  so  dear, 

Was  to  the  spirit's  vision  clear. 

So,  too,  the  charmed  pictured  three, 

Joyous  in  childish  gayety, 

Thus  playing,  near  the  open  door, 

Their  very  laugh  rang  out  once  more. 

Saw,  too,  their  mother's  eye  of  love ; 

Came  calm  submission  from  above, 

Murmurs  again,  "Thy  will  be  done, 

Accept  in  Christ,  I  come,  I  come." 

So  the  patriot  martyr  died, 

In  faith,  as  beautiful,  as  tried; 

Pressing  the  picture  to  his  breast, 

Touching  and  lovely,  let  it  rest 


THE     UNKNOWN.  71 

Until  the  battle's  deafening  roar 
Is  heard  in  Gettysburg  no  more. 
Then  will  come  the  burial  rite, 
Hiding  the  ghastly,  terrible  fight. 

THE  SCENE  AND  BURIAL. 

There  they  lie!  pale,  noble  still; 
Look!  side  by  side,  on  plain  and  hill, 
What  a  sight!  and  it  well  may  thrill 
A  nation's  heart;  palsy  the  hand, 
Drawing  fierce,  that  traitorous  brand. 
Would  it  were  stayed,  its  vengeful  ire 
Annealed  anew    in  freedom's  fire, 
Losing  thus    each  crimson  stain, 
Attempered  there  to  peace  again. 
Its  cruel  work  here  done  too  well! 
Its  work,  so  fearful,  fierce,  and  fell! 

Dull  earth !  open  thy  quiet  breast, 
Give  its  victims  place  of  rest; 


72  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBUBG. 

Take  the  noble  patriot  slain, 

To  the  embrace  they  justly  claim. 


Out  of  the  line  of  bloody  fray, 
In  peaceful  rest  the  unknown  lay. 
Blest    angel  forms  had  watched  with  care 
The  chill,  stiff  corse  slumbering  there. 
The  face  —  expressive,  pale,  still  shone— 
Light  lingered  when  the  soul  had  gone. 
"Here  another,  —  our  noble  dead 
Strew  the  wide  field,"  so  solemn  said. 
This  man  died  by  the  streamlet's  brink, 
Trying,  perhaps  in  vain,  to  drink. 
Ah!  here!  —  a  picture  on  his  breast, 
By  stiff  hand,  now  so  closely  pressed. 
His  children,  verily;  yes,  three,  — 
Last  gaze  —  0  God,  the  agony! 
Full  consciousness  of  ebbing  life, 
Regret,  remorse,  the  strength,  the  strife, 


THE    UNKNOWN.  73 

Chaos  of  thought,  within  the  soul, 
Drifting  toward  the  unseen  goal; 
Love  brooded  o'er  this  upturned  sea, 
Giving  to  faith  the  victory. 

He  died, — aye!  as  the  Christian  dies, 
All  darkness  from  his  pathway  flies; 
Soft  light  is  on  the  marble  brow, 
So  lovely,  with  peace  of  heaven  now. 
The  attitude  but  speaketh  rest, 
Entire  expression  calm  and  blest. 

Unloose  the  picture,  now  to  tell 

Where  the  patriot  martyr  fell. 

Place  of  sacrifice, — his  deep  love, 

The  story  must  the  heart  so  move! 

His  humble  grave,  we  mark  "Unknown/7 

The  lowly  mound,  without  a  stone! 

How  know  the  name?     What  can  unseal? 

The  picture  may  sometime  reveal! 


74  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Take  it  lovingly,  from  its  rest;— 
Carefully;  see,  how  it  is  pressed, 
As  if,  still  fondly,  to  his  breast,  - 
He  holds  his  children  with  such  love 

As  conquered    when  with  death  it  strove. 
#  #  # 

The  picture's  story  traveled  far- 
Most  thrilling  story  of  the  war. 
Many  wept  as  they  read  the  tale, 
But  tears  or  wishes,  nought  avail. 
Inquiries  carne, — kind  answer  went, — : 
For  time,  much  skill,  and  true  art  lent 
To  reproduce  the  pictured  three, 
With  nice,  as  strict  fidelity. 
The  fair  reprint,  at  length  obtained 
Deepened  interest — that  was  gained. 
The  picture  read,  wherein  was  seen 
Each  little  face;  its  touching  mien 
Wrought  desire  to  trace  the  "Unknown/7 
Would  find  these  children  of  his  home, 


T  II  E     U  N  K  N  0  W  N .  75 

Soothe  these  desolate,  bring  relief, 
So  their's  became  a  common  grief. 
*  #  # 

But  pass  the  weeks,  the  months  away, 

And  bring  a  chill  November  day. 

The  bloody  Held  had  hid  its  slain, 

The  recent  carnage  left  no  stain. 

In  darkened  homes,   the  vacant  chair—* 

Desolate  homes  were  ev'rywhere. 

'Twas  a  frightful,  terrible  field, 

Whereon  the  nameless  soldier  sealed 

His  love  of  country  and  of  home; 

Yet,  head-stone  there  but  says  " Unknown!'7 

Long   rains    had    washed,    cold    dews    had 
wept ! 

Late  autumn  winds  now  hoarsely  swept 

Over  the  low,  lessening  mound, 

"  Unknown'7  the  murmur  of  each  sound. 

In  distant  cot,  humble  as  lone, 

Was  heard  inquiry's  earnest  tone 


76  IDYLS    OF     GETTYSBURG. 

"Our  dear  father!  when  will  he  come? 
He  wrote  he  would,  away  last  June; 
The  hills  are  now  so  very  white— 
I  dream  of  him,  mamma,  each  night. 
He  promised  us  new  sleds  and  sleighs. 
Mamma,  why  is  it  that  he  stays?" 
So  urged  the  merry  little  Fred; 
Thus  talking  all  the  way  to  bed. 
Patient,  silent,  the  mother  smiled; 
Pressed  to  her  heart  the  happy  "child. 
Bright,  lovely  dreams  were  for  the  boy, 
But  fears  the  mother's  peace  destroy. 
Anxious,  watching,  worn  with  care, 
Sick — in  hospital  ?  in  prison — where  ? 
Sad  forboding,  when  will  it  end  ? 
Oh  intelligence!  Send,  0  send! 
Came,  at  last,  to  the  cot  so  lone, 
Thrilling  tale  of  the  long  "Unknown!7' 
With  fearful,  breathless  interest  read, 
Alas!  alas!  she  knew — her  dead. 


T  H  E     U  N  K  N  0  W  N.  79 

The  story  his,  she  knew  too  well; 
Yes,  there  he  fought,  and  there  he  fell, 
Unknown,  clasping  the  pictured  three, 
Was  her  own — Ah !  the  agony. 
The  sad  unveiling  of  that  hour, 
To  tell — words,  truly,  have  no  power. 
Aye!  such  deep  grief  is  only  known 
To  HEARTS  thus  pierced,  desolate,  lone. 

And  now  the  group,  so  pale  with  fear, 
She  calls,  "  Come  to  me,  children  dear, 
Kneel  near  me  on  the  cottage  floor.77 
The  lone,  and  sad,  bereaved  four. 
Pray  the  orphan  and  widow's  God, 
Claim  the  promise  of  Precious  Word. 
Thank  Him — the  father  lost  is  found, 
But  sleeps  in  death  on  battle  ground. 
So  bravely,  nobly  there  he  fell! 
Can  we  repeat,  the  "All  is  well." 


80  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

THE  PICTURE  RETURNED  FROM 
THE  FATAL  FIELD. 

Generous  stranger,  and  so  kind, 
Speeds  his  way,  the  bereaved  to  find, 
With  this  picture,  the  dying  pressed ; 
His  parting  soul  tenderly  blest, 
When  breathing  forth  a  last  deep  prayer, 
Mid  the  battle's  sulphurous  air; 
Commending  thus  to  pitying  heaven, 
The  life,  the  children  God  had  given. 

•*•  •*••!• 

Lovely  the  humanity  that  wrought 
For  bereaved  in  the  distant  cot, 
Beautiful  the  charity,  and  true, 
That  bids,  kindly,  for  other  do 
Generous  act,  make  sacrifice, 
With  sorrow    ever  sympathise. 
'Tis  thus    we  take  so  much  from  grief, 
Thus  giving,  we  find  a  true  relief. 


THE     UNKNOWN.  81 

So  in  the  martyred  soldier's  home, 
Most  isolated  and  most  lone, 
As  came  the  facts  from  fatal  field. 
The  sad  bereavement,  nought  concealed, 
The  yielded  life,  its  close  with  prayer, 
Came  gracious  act,  and  kindness  rare. 
Our  soldier  died,  but  love  should  live; 
We  gave,  and  still,  if  just,  we  give. 
Precious  life,  as  offering  made, 
Disunion's  baleful  wrong   has  stayed. 
Then  count  not  him,  as  one  unknown, 
Whose  blood  has  stained  the  altar-stone — 
Flowing  in  frightful  flood,  and  free, 
For  nation's  law  and  unity. 

THE  ORPHAN'S  HOME. 

On  the  hallowed  battle  ground, 
This  soldier's  orphan  children  found 

So  soon    a  cheerful,  charming  home; 


82  IDYLS     OF    GETTYSBURG. 

With  these    are  many  orphans  more, 

Whose  fathers  fell  in  conflict  sore. 

Our  nation's  justice    these  may  claim, 

Sure,  no  child  of  patriot  slain 

Should  ever  want  for  daily  bread — 

By  vow  to  him,  the  martyred  dead. 

Yes, — shelter,  train  his  orphan  child, 

Lead  by  love  to  the  Undefiled ; 

Guard  him  kindly,  'mid  helpless  years, 

Pity  his  sorrows,  dry  his  tears. 

Aye!  by  our  soldier's  trust  and  prayer, 

Yield  him  the  needed,  promised  care! 

Teach  him  the  lessons  the  good  should  learn, 

So  God  will  bless  the  land  in  turn; 

The  yawning  gulf  ope    not  again, 

That  closed  above  patriot  slain— 

The  frightful  gulf,  gaping  so  wide, 

And  closed,  but  when  our  best  had  died. 


IDYL  II. 


BLIGHTED,  YET  BEAUTIFUL, 


IDYL   II. 


THE   ANCESTRAL  HOME   OF  A   UNION   OFFICER,    WI?O 
IN   THE  SECOND   DAY'S  FIGHT,    AT   GETTYSBURG 

THE  Union  soldier's  home 
Was  shrined  in  lovely  vale 

The  poplar's  mounting  cone, 
Leaf  tremulous  and  pale, 

Stood  at  the  entrance  gate, 

Warden,  to  watch  and  wait. 


Within,  the  lawn  was  wide, 
Through  which  a  brooklet  ran, 

Flowers  grew  upon  its  side, 
And  rustic  bridge  did  span; 

Fragrant  thorn  fenced  the  bounds, 

Shut  lawn,  and  garden  grounds. 

85 


86  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Woods,  so  thick, — fields  beyond, — 
That  stretch  far,  far  away, 

To  a  blue  lakelet  pond, 

Thence,  to  a  sheltered  bay — 

That  brimmed  with  every  tide, 

Where  fairy  yacht  did  glide. 

The  massive  mansion  old, 

In  record  of  its  years, 
Whose  touching  annals  told 

The  tales  of  joy    and  tears. 
These  grand    old  walls,  and  gray, 
Had  stood  for  many  a  day. 

The  present  master,  brave, 
Hurries  from  foreign  shore, 

A  few    brief  orders  gave, 
And  turns  away,  once  more; 

Passes  the  warden  gate. 

Hastes  to  a  martyr's  fate! 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.  87 

MEETING  AT  YALE. 

Where  graceful  elm,  in  leafy  pride, 
Shades  the  avenues — trim  and  wide, 
Where  charmed  philosophic  light, 
Beams  steadily,  arid  softly  bright; 
Where  learned  culture  blends  and  binds 
Refining  character,  as  minds; 
With  skill  reducing  ev'ry  ore, 
Blend  in  brotherhood  evermore 
Those  of  manliest  strength  and  fire. 
With  these  of  calmer  thought,  and  higher. 
Here,  thus  met,  strong  in  sympathy, 
The  two  of  strange,  sad  destiny! 
One  from  the  cold,  hardier  North, 
Other,  from  warm,  genial  South. 
They  both  so  loved  the  classic  page, 
.Admired  the  poet,  not  less  the  sage. 
One  reticent,  if  not  more  learned, 
The  other,  half  in  scorn,  oft  turned 


88  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Away  from  books,  so  quick  to  scan, 
As  smoother  verse,  so  living  man. 
Both  noble  in  their  rivalry, 
Courteous  thus    their  chivalry. 
Graceful,  yielding  to  just  demand, 
Neither  mixed,  or  ever  planned, 
The  small  sports,— aiming  to  annoy, 
That  spoil  the  man,  as  mar  the  boy. 
Rather,  years  earnest,  pass  away, 
And  bring  so  soon    the  parting  day. 
With  kindest  feeling  spoke    adieu! 
And  Yale's  loved  shades  are  lost  to  view. 
Life  in  its  meaning,  and  its  strength, 
Stood    all  revealed  to  each    at  length, 
They  saw  blacken,  a  nation's  sky, 
Both  heard  addressed  the  startling  cry: 
To  Arms!  To  Arms!  Be  men  or  die. 
While  roar  of  battle  shook  the  main, 

And  air  on  land  is  sulph'rous  flame, 

» 

Where  stands  the  famous  class  of  Yale? 
Where  the  two  friends?  Ah!  list  the  tale! 


BLIGHTED,    YET   BEAUTIFUL.  89 

/ 

JOURNEY  OF   THE  CONFEDERATE'S  WIDOW  TO 
GETTYSBURG  LONG  AFTER  THE  BATTLE. 

Unfading  immortelles 

Have  graced  long  the  portals 

Of  her  love's  empty  tomb ; 
One  hastens  to-morrow, 
In  journey  with  sorrow, 

Asking  sadly  the  boon, 
To  kneel  nearer  her  dead, 
Press  the  dust  where  he  bled. 

If,  thus  in  grief,  must  go, 
Would  pardon  still,  late  foe, 

Tread  thus    the  quiet  field, 
That  prowess  fairly  won, 
Where  mound  and  sculptured  stone, 

Where,  too,  a  nation's  shield, 
Keeps  guard  o'er  half  its  dead, 
But  knows  not  her's,  that  bled. 


90  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

One  is  to  meet  her  there, 
Whose  melting  love  and  prayer, 

Whose  sweetest  constancy, 
Has  been  so  strong  and  true, 
Has  counselled    to  subdue 

All  strife  with  destiny; 
To  trust,  henceforth,  to  Heaven 
Forgive,  and  be  forgiven. 

SORROW— ITS  POWER. 

Who  lives  this  life,  and  hath  not  wept? 
Even    as  laughing  eyes  have  slept. 
Parting,  the  clasping  lash  hath  stole 
Such  proof  of  sorrow    from  the  soul ; 
But  the  deep  grief  of  weary  years 
Tells  not  its  agony  in  teai's. 
How  fearful,  wholly  vain  our  strife, 
So  mighty,  crushing  out  the  life; 
Leaving  a  calm,  profound  despair, 
Where  all  was  once    but  bright  and  fair. 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.  93 

So,  sad  in  heart,  this  weary  one 
Leaves  for  a  time    her  darkened  home. 
Journeying  in  her  weeds  of  wroe — 
A  holy  love    hath  bade  her  go. 
Vain  the  beautiful  to  her  eye, 
Unheard  are  tones  of  sympathy. 
Was  lost,  so  lost,  to  one  deep  grief- 
Is  there,  0  God!  for  such  relief? 
Is  there  calm  for  that  sad  brow? 
Must  all  be  dark  as  seemeth  now? 
But  list  the  story  of  her  grief, 
Told  in  her  thrilling  words — and  brief. 

THE  FATAL  ENCOUNTER  REHEARSED   WHILE 
WAITING  ON  THAT  PORTION  OF  THE  FIELD 
KNOWN  AS  CEMETERY  HILL. 

Why  comes  she  not  ?  All  is  forgiven, 
Her  early  love  knew  no  delay, 

To  us,  no  hope  is  ours — but  heaven; 
All  earthly  joy  has  passed  a\vay. 


94  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Iret  life's  blest  morn  to  both    was  bright, 
But  ere  the  noon    came  darkest  night; 
Our  parting  followed  bridal  days, 
Our  meeting  sad,  with  mournful  bays! 

LOOKING  TOWARDS  GETTYSBURG. 

Most  unfamiliar  seem  the-se  skies, 
Impressive  still,  the  hill  and  plain, 

Where  yonder  ramparts  lengthened  rise- 
All!  o'er  that  mountain  wall  he  came, 

A  part  to  bear  in  the  awful  strife ; 

Here,  to  yield  a  beautiful  life. 

He,  the  courteous,  and  the  brave, 

Whom  faction  could  not  claim  as  slave. 

These  heights,  all  clothed  in  purple  light, 
Saw  first,  at  last  eve's  setting  sun, 

Knew  the  presence  of  beauty's  might, 
Yet  only  thought,  and  felt  he  came, 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.  95 

Over  that  gorgeous  mountain  wall, 
But  in  the  humblest  grave    to  fall. 
He,  the  best  of  an  honored  name, 
Whose  sacred  dust   now  cannot  claim. 


Ah!  turning  to  the  southern  sky, 

Higher  the  rugged  Bound  Top  rose, 
Bearing  a  bowlder  crest  on  high — 

While  at  the  base,  am  told  there  flows, 
That  muddy  brook,  along  the  dell, 
Where  fiercest  showers  of  battle  fell. 
Fell  in  the  lead  and  iron  hail, 
Shrouding  the  mountain  and  the  vale! 

And  mingling  came  the  flash  of  steel; 

Ranks  dashing  as  the  maddened  sea! 
They  form,  they  rush,  they  stand  or  reel, 

With  each  'tis  death,  or  victory! 


96  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Thus,  daring,  pressing  on  the  line, 
Falling — not  one— but  her's,  and  mine! 
Alas!  the  thrust  received,  and  given, 
The  fatal  thrust!  two  lives  thus  riven. 

0  God!  yet  lived,  who  smote,  to  know 
Each  bore  the  fratricidal  steel; 

There  slew  the  friend,  in  guise  of  foe, 
No  words  the  horror  may  reveal. 

Instant  driven  on  brink  of  fate — 

All  now  undone, &  but  too  late! 

Dying — a  moment  left  for  prayer; 

Forgiving, — thus  they  perished  there. 

Alas!  where  Round  Top's  shadows  fall, 
So  deeply  dark,  in  leafy  shade, 

Without  flag,  or  funeral  pall, 

Her's  and  mine  in  death  were  laid. 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.  99 

Ah!  mine  and  her's,  the  true  and  brave, 
So  strangely  filled  one,  bloody  grave, 
While  the  tremor  of  conflict  pealed, 
And  surging  columns    dashed  or  reeled. 

But  when  that  awful  battle  roar 

Was  hushed,  within  the  frighted  vale, 
Amid  the  carnage,  and  the  gore, 

Trod  one,  with  face  as  pale 
As  those  of  calm,  reposing  dead, 
The  rains  had  washed  from  stains  of  red, — 
Her  face,  in  pallor  so  like  death, 
Differed — for  came   and  went  the  breath. 

To  her    that  grave  gave  half  its  prey, 
And  only  marred,  by  single  thrust, 
Then  borne  so  tenderly  away, 
And  gathered  to  ancestral  dust; 


100  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

With  pomp  of  war,  in  depth  of  grief, 
The  last  rite  paid  her  martyred  chief. 
Banner  and  plume  drooped  o'er  her  slain, 
But  mine  was  left,  and  without  name. 


Tet  marked — in  agony  of  gloom, 

The  place  of  the   dark,  bloody  grave, 
In  the  light  of  the  struggling  moon, 

Marked,  and  so  carefully  to  save 
This  spot  of  earth,  to  me  so  dear, 
Yet,  awful  through  a  chilling  fear. 
To  her  memory — only  pain, 
Grave  of  the  slayers,  and  the  slain ! 

Earth  sure  has  nobleness    most  high, 
And  love,  so  tender,  deep,  and  pure; 

The  love    that  mates  us  with  the  sky, 
And  wreck  of  all  things  shall  endure; 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.          101 

Glowing  in  beauty,  when  the  sun 
Closes  his  round,  his  mission  done, 
Lives  this  love,  so  like  to  heaven, 
But  to  the  blessed   only  given. 

PARTING   AND  RE-UNION. 

The  parted  for  years    met  that  night; 
But  flowing  tears  dimmed  not  the  sight. 
From  an  adieu  of  tenderness; 
Their  later  sorrows  fathomless. 
So,  this  chosen  place  of  meeting, 
All  their  touching  words  of  greeting, 
Spoke  the  soul,  in  truest  greatness 
Expressed  of  grief, — but  tenderness 
Of  feeling — only  nobleness. 

#  #  # 

They  parted  in  joy,  met  in  grief- 
Parted  in  hope;  the  bridal  wreath 
Pressed  each  brow  with  an  easy  grace, 
One,  wearing  the  spiritual  face 


102  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

That  painter,  and  poet  admire; 

Other  flashed  the  essential  tire 

Of  genius,  so  wild  and  free, 

Lovely,  perfect,  in  symmetry. 

One  went  forth  to  a  southern  home, 

Other,  o'er  classic  lands  to  roam ; 

One  breathed  fragrance  of  orange  bloom, 

Other  wreathed  bays,  near  Virgil's  tomb; 

Sought  the  zephyr,  courted  the  breeze, 

Braved  the  gusts  of  the  Pyrenees. 

Lingered    amid  the  glory  of  art, 

The  beautiful,  thrilling  the  heart; 

Passed  there  the  smiling,  happy  years, 

Where  nature,  art,  and  song  endears. 

LETTERS  RECEIVED    AKD  SENT. 

So  sprightly,  from  the  jasmine  bower, 
Sped  the  sweet  note  of  hidden  power 
Winging,  so  swift,  the  changeful  deep, 
A  hand  enfolds,  and  warm  hearts  speak 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.  103 

So  gracefully,  in  truth  and  love. 
With  beauty  freighted,  sweet  reply 
Is  wafted  West,  as  happily. 
Witching  in  story,  song  and  art, 
Gathered  from  wider,  richer  mart. 
Kadiant,  with  the  heart's  own  glow, 
Changeful,  like  light  on  mountain  snow, 
Warm,  in  its  amethystine  hue, 
As  varied,  and  ever  new  ; 
Glowing,  melting,   as  morning  light, 
On  steepy  sides  of  Alpine  height; 
Painted  thus  lovely  and  bright  the  page, 

In  quaint,  classic,  grotesque  or  sage. 

*  *  #  # 

But  this  charmed  poetic  life 
Changed    at  once,  when  the  civil  strife 
So  menaced  our  strength  and  power, 
Bringing  for  all,  the  trial  hour. 
The  Nation's  flag  of  golden  stars, 
The  flag  of  white  and  crimson  bars, 


104  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Floating  out  on  the  troubled  breeze, 
In  beckoning  fold,  on  land  and  seas, 
Called  the  patriot-faithful  home— 
Who  loves  the  flag    must  cease  to  roam. 
It  leads  the  West — the  mighty  North, 
While  flaunts  another    from  the  South. — 
The  fearful  lines  of  death  are  drawn, 
So  city,  hamlet,  crowded  town, 
Pour  forth  their  legions  for  the  fight, 
Bidding  these  live,  or  die  for  right. 
Most  painful,  pitiful  the  day, 
When  love  and  peace  seem  swept  away. 
Buried  beneath  the  battle's  tide,— 
Brother,  in  brother's  blood  so  dyed. 
Where  friend  meets  friend  on  hostile  field, 
And  vengeful  brand  each  life  has  sealed  ! 
So  runs  our  sad,  and  cruel  tale 
Of  martial  classmates    of  old  Yale. 
Alas!  the  fearful,  frightful  strife- 
Demanding  sternly    life  for  life. 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.  107 

So  cruel,  vengeful,  to  the  last; 
Thank  God,  for  mercy — it  is  past! 

AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  THE  CONFEDERATE 
SLAIN. 

They  met  that  night 
In  solemn  rite; 
Above  the  dead 
Was  service  read; 
Deep,  trusting  prayer, 
Waked  the  still  air 
In  Round  Top's  vale. 
While  o'er  his  clay 
The  wreathed  bay 
Is  gently  laid, — 
Requiem  said. 
Bright  stars  above 
So  soft  looked  down — 
The  air  is  love. 
The  distant    town 


108  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Knew  not  the  rite 

Of  this  late  night. 
Alone  with  God 
The  living  stood! 
Alone — weary — 
Thought    so  dreary 
Might  fill  each  soul.. 
Heaven,  pitiful, 
Heaven,  merciful! 
Peace   breathed  within; 
The  earnest  prayer, 
Found  answer  there. 
And  now  they  stand, 
Joined,  hand  to  hand, 
O'er  the  low  head 
Of  sleeping  dead. 
Then,  cross  and  bay, 
In  love,  they  lay; 
Then  kneel  to  pray, 
And  tremulous  say; 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.         100 

Rest  thee,  0  Rest! 
Spirit  now  blest. 
Rest  thee  in  heaven, 
Spirit  forgiven! 
Washed  from  dark  sin, 
Folded  within 
Embrace    so  blest, 

Rest  thee,  0  rest! 
#  #  # 

Requiem  said 
Above  the  dead, 
That  deeper  prayer- 
Then,  silence  there 
Again  keeping, 
The  dead  sleeping 
In  the  low  vale, 
Where  chant  and  wail 
JSTo  more  is  heard, — 
The  dust  unstirred 
To  the  last  day. 


110  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

But  the  bowed  went  forth  from  the  rite, 

With  a  sweet  peace    and  hope  that  night 

To  a  new,  and  beautiful  life— 

With  holiest  charity  rife — 

Calmly  bidding  the  mount  and  dell, 

With  sacred  dust,    a   last  farewell! 

DEPARTURE. 
Emerging  from  the  leafy  wood. 

Where,  now,  attendants  waiting  stood; 
Were  borne  from  thence  so  fast  away, 
That  long  before  the  risen  day, 
Eound  Top's  crest  was  lost  to  view, 
As  other  sweep  of  highlands  too, 
That,  curving,  seem  to  fence  around 
The  town,  with  bloodiest  battle  ground. 
These  hills,  first  seen  in  purple  light, 
As  mantling  beauty  crowns  each  height, 
Three  times  have  faded  on  the  view ; 
But  love  now    filled  her  heart  anew; 
Peaceful,  like  heaven,  their  last  adieu. 


BLIGHTED,    YET    BEAUTIFUL.         Ill 

Lovely — still  was  their  greeting  sad, 
Solemnly — yet  the  parting  glad. 

WOMAN— HER  POWER. 

Holy  the  sympathy  to  woman  given; 
Beautiful  her  mission,  ordained  of  heaven. 
So  sacred  her  trust,  she  may  well  beware; 
Trifle  not ;  but  strong  in  her  love  and  prayer. 
So  the  hand  and  the  heart  be  pure, 
All  influence  made  but  higher,  truer: 
Careful  to  watch  that  hate  be  laid  aside, 
The  cruel  malice — inglorious  pride  ! 
So  holy  her  work,  but  silent  in  power, 
It  will  bring  the  wished— the  blessed  hour, 
When  the  whole  nation,  as  these,  late  weeping, 
Vigil  and  rite,  above  its  dead,  keeping, 
Promise  to  love,  forgive,  be  one  again, 
And  the  whole  land  respond  Amen !  Amen ! 


IDYL  III. 


EARLY  SPRING   FLOWERS, 

FROM  GULP'S  HILL. 


IDYL   III. 


ADDRESSED  TO  MBS.  F.  N.  B. 

si  from  Gulp's 

(HEPATICA,  AND  ANEMONE  NEMOROSA.) 

NEAR  the  foot  of  a  riven  oak, 
Trunk  all  shivered    by  battle  stroke- 
Gracefully  grew  these  frail  spring  flowers, 
Softly  tinted, — droopingly  stood, 
In  early,  sweetest  sisterhood, — 

Bending  lightly  to  passing  showers,— 
Just  as  they  bend  to  zephyr's  wing, 
As  he  heralds  the  gentle  spring. 

These  flowers  grew  on  hallowed  ground, 

Late,  where  echoed  the  battle  sound. 

in 


116  IDYLS     OF    GETTYSBURG. 

Their  tiny  roots  have  all  been  dyed 
With  deeper  hue — the  life  blood  stain 
Blent  with  the  soil  beneath  the  shun ; 

Bathed,  indeed,  by  the  crimson  tide 
That  stained  the  hill,  flushed  the  glen; 
Gushing  from  hearts  of  dying  men. 


Why  shrink  you  thus,  from  sweetest  breath? 
Ah!  no  less  sweet  that  carnage  and  death 

Profuse    have  fed  each  fair  young  life; 
Naught  changes  ever  perfect  mould, 
Or  lessens  one  exquisite  fold. 

?o   stainless,    pure  amid  our  strife 
Refining  but  the  gross  of  earth; 
Each  life,  but  beauty  from  its  birth! 


Love  these  flowers  for  a  nation's  dead; 
Love  not  less  for  the  blood  so  shed,- 


EARLY     SPRING     FLOWERS.  119 

Tea,  it  giveth  the  richer  bloom; 
They  veiled  the  eye  from  fearful  sight, 
Wept  in  sadness,  the  wintry  night. 

But  leave  behind  such  grief  and  gloom, 
They  spring  afresh,  on  field  late  red ; 
Love  tliem  well  for  our  noble  dead. 


Tenderly  greet  these  lovely  flowers, 

They  weave  that  spell  for  charmed  hours; 

Oft  we  have  sought  on  other  ground, 
When  the  damp  chilling  winds  were  there, 
All  the  woodlands  still  brown  and  bare; 

Then  low  anemone,  have  found 
fh  shielded  slope,  in  sheltered  vale, 
The  early  triloba,  and  pale. 


Fold  the  flowers  in  a  heart  of  love ; 
Never  forget  these  bloomed  above 


120  IDYLS     OF     G  E  T  T  Y  S  B  U  11  G  . 

Graves,  so  level  at  once,  and  lone; 
Yes  where  they  grew,  and  all  around 
Over  this  wide  ensanguined  ground; 

Arc  nameless  graves,  so  low — Unknown 
Where  tender  tears  are  rarely  shed, 
In  tribute  thine,  for  stranger  dead. 

The  tear,  thus  falling,  gently  kind, 
Flows  from  a  heart  by  love  refined; 

A  charity  as  nobly  true, 
Would  seek  to  shield  with  kindly  care, 
This  once  our  brother,  sleeping  there,— 

Would  sometimes  plant  the  mournful  yew 
Or  now,    that    cruel   war  is  past, 
Would  yield  the  Christian  rite  at  last. 


IDYL  IV. 

NATIONAL 
ORPHAN    HOMESTEAD. 


IDYL   IV. 


fjtetiouat 

FIRST   SIGHT  OF  THE  GETTYSBURG  BATTLE  FIELD,    AND  FIRST 
NIGHT   AT   THE  HOMESTEAD. 

OF  this  field,  the  first  sight, 
At  THE  HOMESTEAD,  first  night, 

There  is  stirred  in  the  soul, 
Intensely  deep  feeling, — 
Such  fancy  unsealing, 

As  defieth  control. 
The  dread  charge  sounds  again 
From  the  hill-side  and  plain! 

Frightful  the  cannon  roar, 
Shaking  the  ground    once  more; 

123 


124  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

Shivering  lance, — oft  broke; 
Warring  steeds,  and  brave  men 
Crowd  the  gorge,  and  the  glen. — • 

So  the  sulphurous  smoke 
Shuts  out  once  more  the  light — 
I  dream — is  it  the  night? 


A  dream — Ah!  a  troubled  dream, 
That  flash, — is  it  the  gleam 

Of  sudden  blazing  fires? 
What  is  that  awful  sound? 
This  tremor  of  the  ground; 

What  demon's  wrath  inspires? 
Away!  all  horrible  thought, — 
Enough,  enough, — once  fought! 


Be  seen?     Oh!  never  more. 
Would  recall?  no;  deplore. 


ORPHAN     HOMESTEAD.  125 

Wherever  was  such  sight? 
These  hills,  so  softly  green, 
With  sleeping  vales  between, 

Should  ever  know  such  fight! 
Should  drip  with  human  gore : 
Kecall  ?     Oh !  never  more ! 


May  not  in  dream    recall; 
So  fearful,  awful,  all — 

Terrible,  but  in  dream. 
Even  the  July  sun, 
Pestering  work  so  done, 

Frightful,  his  piercing  beam, 
Festering,  foul  the  ray- 
Heaven  shield  from  such  a  day! 


Away,    warrior — ghost ! 
Awav,  shadowy  host! 


126  IDYLS     OF     GETTYSBURG. 

It  is  now  peace,  once  more! 
Withdraw  from  yonder  crest, 
Your  foe  may  not  invest; 

His  power,  as  thine  is  o'er! 
He  faltered  on  the  plain, — 
Why  wake  the  ghastly  slain! 
#  #  # 

Then  come,  0!  gentle  sleep, 
For  angel  guards  will  keep 

Watch  through  the  sacred  ground; 
For  the  lone  orphan  prayer, 
Invoketh  heavenly  care, 

To  shelter  thus,  around; 
To  safely  keep  this  night. 
Shielding  with  Gracious  might. 


M191976 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


